Something's Gonna Give
by DrWorm
Summary: "'Are you trying to die?' He whispered, both awed and horrified." James/Remus slash quasi-romance. Rated mainly for gore and more self-mutilation. Chapter three up.
1. This Pain Inside, I Can't Understand

Notes: Writer's block sucks. Whaaa… ;_; And I don't know why I'm making this chaptered. (Psst! Review slut, right here!)

For people confused as to why in God's name I keep making Remus a cutter (Yes, why? For the love of God, WHY?) it's all because it was right there in PoA. Remus says that, without anybody else available to scratch and bite when he was in wolf form, he would scratch and bite himself. I tell you, I just about died of happiness reading that. *Author sits down next to Remus. The two compare scars.*

Something's Gonna Give

Silence, like nothingness, hung in the air. It was a pall, a catharsis, a comfort to James Potter, who stood, barefoot, in the boys' lavatory and stared glumly into the mirror. He turned his head one way and then the other, scowling with displeasure at the face that stared back. After furtively trying to smooth the waves of his unruly hair, he grabbed the toothpaste and brush he'd brought with him, beginning his nightly grooming routine.

For a moment the silence was lifted; James scrubbed his teeth noisily, trying hard to see how much foam he could make with a minimal amount of the minty paste. He swirled the mixture of soap and saliva around his mouth, letting it slide between his teeth and tongue with a pleasant squishing sound. Finally, he began to spit into the sink, alternately swallowing handfuls of water from the running tap to rinse thoroughly.

As he was expectorating the final, lingering sweet taste, shooting the water almost directly down the drain, he heard the solid 'bang' of the shower room's doors as they were pushed open and the frantic patter of feet as they rushed across tile. Curious, he lifted his head; in the reflection of the mirror he could see his friend Remus jogging toward him. Instinctively, he turned and opened his mouth to greet the other boy, but stopped when he realized that something was wrong. Remus' eyes were wide and wild; they stared past James, not recognizing or acknowledging him. And there was something odd about the way he was running. His gate was stiff, jerky, and almost lopsided. James could see that he was favoring his left arm, cradling it tenderly against his chest. He watched, confused, as Remus limped the final few feet to the porcelain sink and turned the hot water tap. 

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Remus' breathy mutter carried easily in the open space of the showers and toilets. "Oh please, oh god, oh please." James found himself opening his mouth again, this time intent on getting Remus' attention and asking him what was wrong. 

But before James could make a sound, Remus lowered his arm to the sink and answered his unspoken question. Blood flowed freely from a deep, wide cut that nearly spanned the entire length of the pale boy's forearm. For a moment, all he could see was red, until Remus placed his wrist beneath the steady stream of water. Then the wound seemed white and bared, vulnerable and sickening. Remus scooped water into the palm of his other hand and dripped it over the part of his arm that wouldn't fit beneath the faucet. "C'mon," he whispered, "Oh please, just stop…"

"Remus," James' voice was a heavy and solid contrast; the sudden sound of it made the room seem full and comforting, as opposed to the eeriness of silence and whispers. Remus' head shot up, and he stared at James with frightened recognition. "Remus, what happened? _What happened_?" 

The question made Remus flinch; he stared at James for a moment in utter confusion before looking back down at his arm, his interest so intent that it seemed to James that Remus hadn't truly been aware of his injury before that moment. For several moments he just looked at it, watched the red swirl down the drain. His mouth opened. He began to scream.

It began as a low growl deep in the back of his throat, moved quickly into a moan, and finally crescendoed into a spectacularly high wail. Remus backed away from the sink, his right hand circled around his left wrist, and screamed and screamed and screamed. James felt helpless and paralyzed standing so far away. He took one step forward and then another, almost blown back by the sheer force of the noise escaping his friend's throat. Never having dealt with anything like this before, never having seen so much blood coming from one human being before, James was scared. But he knew, as he took the final steps to close the gap between the two boys, that Remus was in pain. Something was seriously wrong and, no matter what, Remus was still his friend. His sense of compassion and love for the other boy overcame his fear, and, within the barest of moments, James had thrown his arms around Remus, gripping and restraining him. Soon, the other boy's cries were coming in short breaths; he would shriek loudly, take a deep breath, and shriek again. James held him tightly and murmured, "Shh… calm down, calm down. Everything will be ok, don't worry."

And then Remus' legs seemed to give out on him; he sagged in James' arms, sobbing with a force that sounded painful. As gently as he possibly could, James kneeled and then sat, crossing his legs and pulling the tangle of limbs, robes, and blood that was Remus Lupin into his lap. "What happened, Remus? Shh… don't cry, don't cry. Tell me what happened; we'll fix it." He reached for Remus' left hand and uncurled the tight fist that the boy had unconsciously made. When he pulled the wounded arm toward him, the material of his white sleep-shirt was splashed with blood. He hissed inadvertently, carefully setting Remus' arm down and pulling off the soiled shirt as quickly as he could without disturbing the body sprawled across his lap. As soon as he'd tugged it over his head, he threw it across the seeping cut and pressed firmly to staunch the flow of blood. 

"I'm sorry." The thin and reedy voice of a little boy met James' ears, and he looked up into a pair of watery brown eyes. Tears streaked their way down Remus' cheeks as he tried to speak. "It was an accident. I'm so, so sorry."

"What was an accident?" James pulled his shirt away from the cut momentarily, taking a quick peek to assess the damage that had been done. In that passing glance, he saw something that his eyes had skimmed over previously. 

Scars. Dozens, maybe even hundreds, of smooth, shiny, pink scars. And, when he twisted Remus' arm to the right and to the left, he could make out the white lines of scars that had long ago healed into a camouflage of skin. Yes, there_ were hundreds; they piled atop one another, they crisscrossed like the thin, emaciated corpses you always saw in the photos of the concentration camps. _

James had never heard the term "self mutilation". He'd never heard talk about the people who banged their heads against walls for pleasure or carved patterns into their skin when nervous or scared. But, once or twice, he'd read about different methods of suicide. And he knew that, sometimes, desperate and frightened people would try to kill themselves by opening the veins in their arms and bleeding to death. 

"Are you trying to die?" He whispered, both awed and horrified. Still, as soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones. Remus just wasn't the type of person who would ever try to commit suicide… or so James thought.

"No…" Remus shook his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no!" Eyes wide and hunted, he shoved his free hand into his mouth and bit down as hard as he could. 

"Hey!" Now James was panicking. He grabbed the wrist of the hand Remus was chewing on and yanked it away. The other boy's sharp eyeteeth ripped into his own flesh and left behind long, ragged tears on the back of his palm. For a moment they remained clear and deep, and then the blood began to well up and spill over. Remus wailed. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice was hitched and frantic; he began trying to twist away from James' grasp, clawing wrenching like a restricted animal. The fingers of his mauled hand caught James across the cheek in a weak slap. 

More surprised than injured, James let go of Remus and tumbled back. The other boy scooted just out of reach of him, cooing gently to himself and delicately embracing his arm. James' fingers slipped on the smooth tile of the bathroom floor as he propped himself up into a sitting position. There was blood on his hands and on his bare chest from the struggle. "Remus." He began to try a different approach. "Remus, you need to go see Madame Pomfrey! That cut is really serious and-"

"No." His voice was no louder than a whisper, but James could still hear the fear in it. Remus stood weakly and hunched himself back over the sink, trying again to clear away the blood. 

"Why not?" James asked, surprised and horrified. "It won't hurt; she'll be able to heal it really fast for you…"

"I said 'no'!" Remus snarled. "I don't want her _looking at me!"_

"What…?"

"Jesus _Christ!" With a cry of impatience, Remus stamped his foot and then kicked the base of the sink. "__Why won't it __stop bleeding?"_

"'Cause you aren't putting any pressure on it." James stood and grabbed his shirt that had been discarded during the tussle. He embraced Remus from behind, wrapping the fabric around his arm and carefully holding the cut closed. After a moment he felt Remus relax into him and start to gently rub the curve of his bottom into the hollow of his friend's hips. James pulled back as tactfully as he could; he wasn't entirely sure what Remus was doing, but he didn't want to make him angry either.

"Thank you." Remus' voice was tempered and restricted suddenly; James found the sudden switch disconcerting. "I'm so sorry you had to see all this… I try not to bring other people in…"

"Into what?" 

"I don't really want to talk about it." Remus sounded so sad that James couldn't resist giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

"It's ok. You don't have to tell me." He looked up into the mirror and saw the reflection of Remus' distracted, but smiling, face. "Hey… I've got some bandages and stuff in my room. You want me to patch this up for you?"

"Yes, please." Remus began to allow James to lead him away from the sink. "Wait… why do you have bandages?" His eyes were wide. "You don't…?"

"Uh… no." James blushed slightly and tried to avoid looking at Remus' arms while they walked. "It's for… um… Quidditch injuries, you know? I can't go bothering Pomfrey with every little scratch I get."

"Oh," Remus nodded his head solemnly. As they reached the door of the lavatory, however, his eyes grew wide and he gasped. "Oh, no!"

"What? What is it?" James stopped immediately and glanced around at their surroundings. "What's wrong?"

"What if…" Remus leaned against the door frame and gnawed at his lower lip in worry. "Oh, I hope I didn't wake anyone with all that screaming!"

James paused for a moment, blinking rapidly. "You… what?"

"I don't want everyone to be mad at me!" Remus seemed to stare through James, more concerned with the concerns bouncing to and fro in his brain. "I mean, I know I made such a fuss over something so little… I'll really try to do better next time. I swear!"

James took a deep breath. "Number one," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as he possibly could, "Number one… these walls are solid-" He banged one fist against the nearest partition as proof, shaking it afterwards in effort to ease the resulting pain in his knuckles, "-_solid stone. I'll bet you could murder me right now and I could scream absolute bloody murder and __no one would know until tomorrow morning's bathroom rush. All right?"_

 "Ok," Remus replied, his voice very small.

"And Number two… Number two is…" He took another deep breath and bellowed, "Number two is that you've got this great, bloody cut on your arm that could be life-threatening _very soon if we don't bandage it up! You've got this… __gouge! This __gouge and I think __you made it and I __don't understand __why!" He broke his tirade for a moment to laugh, short and bitterly. "And you're worried about whether the other boys in the dorm will be mad at you? I mean… It's just…" He buried his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up in alarm. "And what d'ya mean '__next time'?"_

"I… uh…" Remus' eyes had gone large again, filled to the precipice with large, sloppy tears. "I just…"

"Never mind," James waved one hand in controlled dismissal and gently extended his arms in the direction of his friend. "I'm sorry."

Remus fell into them, his own arms still wrapped in each other; one fist was clenched against pain while the other was struggling to hold James' t-shirt tight against his flesh. "I'm sorry too."

"You don't have to be sorry," James sighed. "Maybe later… but not right now." He petted Remus' hair and closed his eyes. "But… you did scare me."

"I know."

"C'mon," With an air of falsely cheerful friendliness, James patted Remus on the back. The embrace had felt good. Right. Not awkward, the way James had feared it would. Nice. As he began to lead Remus back to their room, an odd thought crossed his mind. 

_We fit well together._


	2. Realize That I've Lost Control (Impulses...

Notes: Man… if I'm trying to be a review-whore, I really suck at it. Ah well. ^_^ Chapter titles from an Adema song called "Pain Inside".

"So…" James wound a thin, near transparent bandage tightly around the hospital gauze he'd placed on Remus' arm. "Do you want to talk yet?" Though the two were back in the quiet dorm, he spoke normally; James had placed a quick Silencing Spell on his bed so that he and Remus could make as much noise as necessary without _really waking any of the room's other occupants._

"Well…" Remus pursed his lips for a moment, lost in deep thought, before granting James a sharp nod. "I suppose." His eyes swept the length of his injured arm, absorbing, in a glance, the way his blood was already soaking through the fabric meant to blot it. "Waiting would make very little difference, anyway."

James nodded and taped the end of the bandage. "It's up to you." He turned his attention to Remus' opposite hand, beginning to treat the vicious bite-marks his friend had inflicted upon himself. 

"You just… you have to understand…" Remus seemed to be wracking every corner of his mind for the right words. "It's sort of a… more _personal thing. And I… well, I feel somewhat silly talking about it…"_

"Why?" James asked, his eyes meeting Remus' imploringly. "I don't want to… you know… push you or anything. But I'm not exactly here to pass judgment on you."

"Are you sure?" James flashed a little half-smile.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm your friend, aren't I?"

"Yes, but…" With his free hand, Remus began to twirl a lock of hair around his fingertips. James found the innocuous nervous tic intimidating in the near-stillness of the night. "Well, sometimes people _say that, but they don't __mean it. And then they ask so many questions… and when you __do tell them, they just stare at you and stare at you…" His eyes glassed over slightly; he had diverted his gaze to somewhere over James' right shoulder. "Like you're some sort of sideshow act… freak."_

"You aren't a freak," James answered without thinking. "I mean… there's nothing wrong with you…"

"Except…" Remus sighed. "Except that I'm a werewolf."

James blushed, realizing that he'd very carefully omitted that fact. "Well, yeah. But that doesn't make you a freak. It just… " He gulped. "Makes you Remus."

"Ah," Remus stared into space and patted James absently on his thigh. "That's very sweet of you."

"But it's true," James replied doggedly. "Anyway, is that what this is about? The werewolf thing?"

"'The werewolf thing,'" Remus repeated. "I _am the werewolf thing." His smile stretched suddenly from ear to ear. _

"That's… um… not what I meant-," James tried to stammer an apology, but Remus cut him off.

"When I transform, all I want to do is sink my claws into something. That's my first instinct… to tear something- anything- to shreds." Remus paused momentarily, and James could see that his hands were clenched into tight fists. "But in the Shack… there isn't really much to… destroy."

"Oohhhhhhh…" James let his voice drop with a nod of understanding. "So you…?"

"Tear into what's available," A short laugh accompanied Remus' answer. "Namely, myself."

"Okay," James let out the breath that he'd found himself holding. "So why…? I mean… are you doing it during the daytime too? When the moon isn't full?"

Remus stared at James for a moment. "I don't think you quite understand." His voice hissed. "I don't become the wolf… I _am the wolf. That urge to rip and bite and tear and… kill… it never goes away." He turned away from his friend, dipping his head and letting his hair fall across his line of sight like a curtain. "And the urge to cut flesh never lessens. In fact, it's gotten much, much worse." Laughter bubbled from his lips, tinged with horrified acidity. "They think that it has something to do with… with __puberty, for heaven's sake!" Remus turned slightly, his eyes rimmed with panic. "What am I supposed to do?"_

"I don't know," James whispered. He'd never thought anything like this could be happening to his calm and collected Remus. "Is there a potion they could give you…?"

"Oh, they've tried everything!" Remus snapped. "I'm their little guinea pig for all the potions, charms, curses, cures that they can come up with!" He huffed a little. "And none of it has worked."

"I guess…" James quietly reached for Remus' hand in the near-darkness. "I guess I just never realized it bothered you so much."

For a moment, the two were still, silent with their thoughts. But, abruptly, Remus groaned and pulled his hand away. "Oh god… now you'll just worry about me all the time…"

"I'd say I have the right to worry!" James flushed with anger.

"And maybe you'll even go ahead and tell one of the adults…"

"When a person makes a giant cut down one of their arms, I'd say it was a good time to worry!" James continued, annoyed at the way Remus seemed to be ignoring him. But the other boy stopped when he heard this statement, shifting his body in thought.

"I didn't mean to make it that deep," When he finally spoke again, his voice was small and meek. "I meant it when I said it was an accident. The blade slipped; it went deeper than I thought it would." He sighed. "I wouldn't have panicked like that if it hadn't been an accident. Really."

"No, it wasn't an accident." James said stubbornly. "You still meant to… you know… _cut yourself."_

"Yeeee-eeees," Remus furrowed his brow in frustration. "But I hadn't meant to cut so deep and so long…"

"But it still wasn't an accident…"

"What do you want to be when you grow up, James?"

"Huh?" James was caught off guard by the seemingly irrelevant inquiry. "I dunno… An Auror, maybe. Or something to do with dragons and things. Why?" He stared suspiciously at Remus. "What do you want to be?"

"I don't know." Remus stated simply. "I don't really plan on living past the age of twenty."

The silence between them was thick and foreboding as James turned this thought over in his head. "I didn't know…" He spoke slowly, as if talking to a small child. "I didn't know that werewolves typically died so young."

"Oh, they don't," Remus' tone was airy. "I just don't think I'm much good for anything. So, I plan to… um…" He blushed and examined his nails intently while he tried to think of a tactful way to say what was on his mind. "To… you know… make the cuts… _deeper." _

James stared blankly for a moment, causing Remus to fidget. "Um… Are you…? Um…"

Suddenly James' hand flashed through the air, his cupped palm connecting with Remus' cheek. The blow resulted in a loud 'crack' of flesh striking flesh; Remus fell to one side, his hand clutched desperately against his sore and reddening cheek. 

"How dare you?" James rocked back on his heels, various emotions of anger, guilt, and fear clouding his judgment. "I thought you weren't trying to die! You lied! You're a liar! You're a liar and… and a damn selfish bastard!" When Remus didn't respond, he found himself getting angrier. "Well? What do you think of that? You have people who care about you, and you think you can just throw it all away?"

"I thought I'd be doing everyone a… a favor." Remus mumbled, his words obscured by the hand he'd placed over his mouth. 

"That's stupid." James said petulantly, narrowing his eyes. "You're smarter than any of us, Remus. How could you think something so stupid?"

"Because," His words were soft and barely audible. "Because it's not right… I didn't think…"

"That's right!" James seized the thought immediately. "You didn't think! If you had, you would have realized-"

"But I _did think!" Remus wailed, interrupting James' rant. "I __did, I __did! I've been planning this since I was ten years old, James!" He sobbed once without tears, savagely punching one hand into a nearby pillow. "Because it's not fair! It's not __right! Why was it me, James? Why do I have to suffer through being poked and prodded and branded by you… you __fucking wizard Nazis!"_

James couldn't say anything for a moment, surprised by the ferocity in Remus' voice. Then he stretched his arms out to his friend and pulled him into an unwanted embrace; Remus struggled a moment, but found he could not get free. Finally, he sighed, his breath shaking with effort, and relaxed in James' lap. 

The two were sitting, entwined, when Remus felt the tickle of unfamiliar pressure and wetness on his brow. He remembered the feeling from when he was young, before he was bitten. Back in a time when his parents weren't afraid to touch him and feel love for him.

James had placed a sweet, quick kiss on Remus' temple, leaving an oval of shining saliva behind as a memento.


	3. It's Alway Killing Me, The Problems I Fa...

Notes: I don't even know whether this part makes sense or not. ___ And I have no idea what's going to happen next. Suggestions welcome. 

"Mummy…" Remus' small, choked voice took James by surprise; he started slightly, transferring his alarm to Remus, who moaned gently. "Mummy, I'm sorry."

"I… I'm not your Mum," James said, slightly frantic with all of the emotion Remus was piling on him. 

"Mummy." This time the boy's voice was an unsure whisper. James sighed and held Remus closer, brushing several locks of hair out of the paths of angelic eyes. 

"Want me to pretend to be your Mummy?" Remus' eyes widened at the prospect. "Just for tonight… until you fall asleep." James was rewarded with a tense nod. "You can stay the night in my bed, if you like." Remus nodded again, and James found himself smiling inwardly. He'd always been a little in awe of quiet, intellectual, mysterious Remus Lupin; it was such a treat to feel as connected to him as James did at that moment. Remus had always seemed somewhat far away from the rest of the group. Above, below, or to the side… but never truly a part of it. Now James could feel the acceptance, could feel the body heat, the tears, and the blood that made Remus as human as the rest of them.

Well… almost. Remus' lycanthropy didn't bother James so much as did the savagery that stemmed from the condition. While Remus normally radiated benevolence, the scars on his arms revealed a further sadistic and animal side to his personality. And, suddenly, James could clearly recall instances when Remus had been very angry, pupils narrowed to tiny slits, voice cold and distant. Previously, he'd just brushed the tantrums aside, but all of a sudden they began to take on a new meaning. James swallowed hard, bit his lower lip, and pulled Remus closer. He thought back and realized that after every fight, every confrontation, every faint moment of unhappiness that had affected Remus, the other boy had disappeared for a short time. 

_Does he always leave so that he can hurt himself? I just don't understand. Has he ever done anything to himself after **I** said something? God, I hope not…_

Gently, he helped Remus to lie down comfortably, pushing the troublesome thoughts from his head. His friend clung to his bare chest weakly, and James found himself more frightened than when Remus had been hysterical and bleeding. There was something disturbing about hearing Remus' tearful pleas for his mother. James hated the helpless feeling that always gnawed at the pit of his stomach whenever tears were imminent.

"So…" James said softly, stroking the top of Remus' head and twirling gentle curls around his fingers. Remus' hair was silky and smooth, but not quite girlish. It didn't smell perfume-y for one thing. James inhaled offhandedly and could smell the very normal scent of hair and a very faint scent of iced tea. "Did your Mum ever used to do anything to help you sleep? Like… tell you a story or something?"

For a moment: silence. And then, out of the blue: "She'd sing to me."

James gulped. "Lullabies?" He felt the nod beneath his hands.

"Yes…"

"Anything specific?" James looked down and saw Remus' large eyes blinking appraisingly at him. "That I would know, anyway…"

"The only one I can remember is 'All Through The Night'," Remus stared into James' blank expression. "It goes 'Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night…'"

"Yeah! Yes, I know that one," James was excited, feeling like he could finally make at least a mild contribution. "Ok… wait, how does it start?... No, no. I've got it." And then he began to sing to the best of his ability, humming whenever he forgot the words.

Halfway through the second verse, Remus rolled over, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it over James' mouth.

"Hey!" The other boy cried out indignantly, tossing the pillow aside with a lazy hand, as Remus rolled on to his back and smothered his giggles with both hands. "Hey, I'm not _that awful, am I?"_

"Completely off-key," Remus snorted with laughter, "Completely wrong notes, _and you didn't know most of the words!"_

James grinned. "Yeah… but I made you laugh." Remus smiled and sighed.

"Yeah, you did." He rolled onto his stomach stared at the folds in the bedspread intently, pushing them into abstract designs with his fingertips. "My Mum sings very well."

James pushed himself onto his side and stared soberly at Remus. "Does she?"

"Yeah… but she won't sing for me anymore." Remus sniffed. "My Mum and Dad… I think they love me… but I think they're a bit scared of me as well." A pair of dull, overcast brown eyes turned on James. "I don't want people to be scared of me."

"I know," James whispered, inching himself over so that he could lie beside Remus. The two boys were silent for a moment, and James hesitantly reached one hand out to rub Remus' back. "So… really. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

There was a long pause. "I already told you, I don't really think-"

"Oh, come off it, Remus." James frowned. "I know there's _something out there you want to do, whether you plan on actually doing it or not."_

"Teach," Remus answered after a minute of tense quiet. "I think I'd enjoy teaching."

"Here at Hogwarts?" James felt a shrug of response beneath his hand. 

"I don't know… maybe. Maybe not."

"What subject?" James curled his hand slightly so that his fingernails could scratch lightly and soothingly up and down his friend's back. 

"Any subject, I think. Particularly Defense Against the Dark Arts." James nodded. 

"Yeah, you're really good in that class. 'Course, you're good at pretty much everything…" Remus snorted. 

"No, I'm not… I can't play Quidditch to save my life." 

James grinned and rose to his knees. "Ah, but Monsieur Moony!" He affected a bad French accent that caused Remus to bury his head in his hands and snicker. "You do not need zees… 'Quidditch' that you speak of! Eet ees below your station!" With a final gasp of haughtiness, James clasped both hands over his heart and fell backwards onto the soft, springiness of the bed.

Remus stared back at James, smiling crookedly. "Well…"

"Well?" James sat up. "Like my performance?"

"First class actor, you are," With a yawn, Remus stretched his arms over his head. James repositioned himself so he was, again, lying by his friend. 

"But honestly…" James wiggled until he was suitably comfortable. "You want to be a teacher?"

"Yeah… I guess." Remus studied his nails fixedly, carefully avoiding James' eyes. 

"Do you want to get married?" Remus' head snapped up.

"Huh?" James giggled self-consciously.

"I'm… er… not proposing or anything." Remus bobbed his head in understanding. "I just meant… you know… would you?"

"I guess," Remus shrugged. "I don't know… I'd have to find someone who could… you know… tolerate me."

James chewed a fingertip in thought. "Well… you already know that Peter, Sirius, and I can tolerate you…" There was a minute pause before James grinned wickedly. "You could marry one of us!"

"Uh-huh," Remus rolled his eyes. "Somehow I don't see that happening."

"No, really!" James rolled onto his back and kicked his heels up in excitement. "It'd be perfect! What about Sirius?"

"Mmm," Remus wrinkled his nose. "I don't know. I don't quite see Sirius as the type to enjoy fidelity."

James nodded. "True, true." He pretended to think about the puzzle. "How about Peter? I'd say he'd be faithful to the end."

Remus propped his chin up on one hand. "Yes… perhaps Peter…"

With a pounding heart, James clutched the sheets nervously and toyed with the question running through his mind. "And then there's me… would you marry me?"

Remus' eyes darkened and became more somber. "Yes… I think I would."

James looked up, his eyes wide. "You mean if I got down on bended knee and asked you… you say 'yes'?"

Remus' cheeks flushed and he dipped his head a bit, looking at James from beneath his eyelashes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out; finally, he just nodded. 

James gaped. "We… we can't, you know."

"I know." Remus' voice was tinged with sadness.

"I was just joking," he said quietly, with an air indicating a lack of self-conviction rather than misunderstanding. 

"I know." Remus settled his chin heavily on his hand again and stared at the space past James. 

"It's just…" James rolled himself over yet again so that he and Remus were arm-to-arm, thigh-to-thigh. "I mean, boys don't usually…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry," James offered. Remus nodded.

"I know." James watched Remus' lips as they moved to form the spoken words. They were thin and a very delicate pink and, when Remus ran his moist tongue across them, they took on a glossy sheen. 

"But…" And for an instant time seemed to hover. A moment became forever as James closed his eyes, tipped his head to the side, and gently touched his lips to Remus'.


End file.
